


Being Better

by Bam4Me



Series: College And What Comes After [1]
Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: (Though right now he's Uncle Peter), Ageplay, But Stiles IS very depressed and has some mental issues, Depressed Stiles, His father is a good man and loves him very much, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Not all ageplay has to involve daddy issues, Stiles has mental issues that are NOT caused by his father, There are NO daddy issues in this, VERY bad depression, and Stiles loves his dad too, daddy!Peter, little!stiles, will have sequels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 20:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6624247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bam4Me/pseuds/Bam4Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is having a GREAT time at college. Really. Just because he's crying more often than not, and feels completely reckless with what things he does, doesn't mean he's not having a great time.</p><p>Peter does not feel the same way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being Better

**Author's Note:**

> I will reiterate once more, Stiles' issues with thinking that he's a burden, does NOT reflect on the Sheriff. Believe it or not, mental issues CAN manifest without the person who has them, needing a trigger for them. Stiles is very upset for the first half of this fic, and does end of taking a lot of questionable things.
> 
> littleboyfics.tumblr.com

"Somebody needs to help me, I'm having a crisis here."

Peter looked at his phone in shock, checking to make sure he'd really just been called by Stiles. "Stiles, is this a pack crisis, or a money crisis, cause I'm happy to help, but I need to what for. Also, why are you calling  _ me _ ?"

Stiles sighed, "No one else is answering their phones. You were just the next person on the list. This isn't an either crisis, I'm having a chocolate crisis. Why is no one answering me?" Stiles' voice took on a desperate lilt at the end, sounding worried.

Peter sighed and got up from his bed, trying to get his brain to reboot from waking up just a little bit faster as he slid out into the hallway to go down to the kitchen to get something to drink. "Calm down, Stiles, you'll wake up the whole house. Everyone is sleeping after a gargoyle attack this afternoon. I made most of them turn their phones off. What is a chocolate crisis?"

Stiles sighed, long suffering and tiredly. "I bought two pounds of chocolate today."

"Um, okay?"

"I've already eaten more than half of it."

"...You're not diabetic, are you? Because if so, I would suggest you induce vomiting and call 911."

Stiles snorted, "I'm not diabetic, I just... I didn't expect to eat that much chocolate, and now I think I can hear colours, and there may have been a few energy drinks too, and my Adderall, and everything is spinning a little bit, and I don't know how to be a competent adult on my own, and I think I just ingested something that might kill me, and everything is bad, and-"

Stiles' voice broke off, sounding choked up and scared. Peter's hands slipped on the glass he was holding, eyes going a little fuzzy as he watched it fall to the floor with a crash, breaking into tiny pieces around his feet. Fuck, fuck, he was never good at humans getting hurt. He was  _ honestly _ not sure if Stiles was actually in danger right now or not, he was probably the worst person to talk to about this.

"Stiles, do you really think you just ate something that will kill you?"

Stiles paused for a minute, thinking it over, "Uh, no? I mean, I've always been worried about one day getting liver failure because I take so many pills, and it's like I get worried every time I take a pill, it's like my brain is telling me I'm gonna get myself killed from them one day, and I don't know, Peter. My heart won't slow down and I have a headache."

Peter let out a shaky breath he didn't know he was holding. "Okay, you're two hours away, it's the middle of the night so there shouldn't be traffic, I'll be there in two hours, give or take. Do you want me to wake someone up to take with me?"

Stiles made a whining noise, "I didn't mean for you to- I just- it's really quiet here and I needed to talk to someone, but you don't-"

"Stiles, I'm coming down no matter what you say. Just wait for me please? Try not to eat anything else, drink lots of water, don't take any more pills. Why did you take that much anyway?"

Stiles sighed, sounding defeated, "I had a paper due tomorrow. I finished it, but when I was done, I realized how much my chest hurts, and it's not okay, Dad always said that if I take something that makes me hurt like that I probably overdid it, and I didn't mean to."

Peter made an almost soothingly calm hushing noise through the phone, making Stiles' words stutter to a stop. "Just calm down, pup, I'll be there as soon as I pack a bag, I just need you to turn off all the lights and lay down. That should help your headache some."

Stiles made a noise through the phone, but Peter couldn't discern what it was, "Can you, uh, there's this, uh, stuffed animal in my closet there, and I think I might like that, can you-"

"Yeah, it's the only stuffed animal in there? I can get it for you."

"Thanks."

***

It was a much longer drive than Peter would have liked. Two hours wasn't long to be honest, but it felt way too long to drive to get to a packmate in need.

Stiles was off at college though, trying to be alone in the world while he finished his schooling.

Stiles was a social butterfly though. An anxiety ridden one, but a social butterfly none the less. He didn't do well alone.

The apartment building he was in for second year students was run down and kind of old, but Stiles said he liked it there well enough for a single.

Peter kind of wanted to commit mass murder though, because before he had even pulled up he could hear blaring music, probably enough to make a human cringe, making him want to tear his ear drums out.

No wonder Stiles was stressed, he was probably sleep deprived too.

The hallway was dark, like the lights would barely work, and Peter wanted to throw himself out of a window.

Stiles was a lying brat, he knew that now, because every time he calls, he talks about how great everything is. About how amazing his classes are. How amazing the apartment he lives in is. How awesome it is to live by his own schedule for the most part. How perfect his life is right now.

Did you know that a werewolf can't hear a heartbeat over a phone call?

Now here the kid was, having a mental break at four in the morning on a Thursday (no, Friday now) morning, calling his pack in tears because he doesn't remember what he's taken in the last five hours, but he must have taken something wrong because everything hurts.

If everything was so good, this wouldn't have happened. If everything was so good, he wouldn't be worried about what state he was going to find the boy in when he got in there.

Shit, why didn't he call 911? Shit, Stiles could have passed out and choked on his own vomit by now. Well, maybe not with stimulants, but he could just as easily be having a heart attack or dying just the same. Shit, he should have called 911!

Peter's hands shook minutely when he fumbled out the key the pack kept to his apartment, just barely getting it into the lock before he had the door open and inside.

"Stiles?"

He paused for a moment, wondering if Stiles could hear him over the loud thumping of the music down stairs, before hearing a small 'Peter?' coming from the back room in the apartment.

Stiles was curled up in a ball on the bed, looking very much alive, but like he wished he wasn't. His eyes were wide open in the dark room, and he looked like he was vibrating just a little. His heart was pounding in his chest, loud and fast, more than worrisome.

"Can you stand?"

Stiles made a weird noise, trying to push his head into the comforter, "Why? I don't want to go for a walk."

Peter frowned, "Not going for a walk, I'm taking you to the hospital. I need to know if I'm carrying you out to the car or not."

Stiles thought that over for a minute or two, "I don't think I want to stand right now."

Peter nodded and got his arms under Stiles' body, trying not to jostle him too much as the teen curled into his neck and chest, making small noises against him.

"Feels like my legs are vibrating."

Peter nodded, "Looks like all of you is vibrating."

***

"Peter, where are you?"

Peter frowned, letting his head rest against the small wall outside of the darkened hospital room, "Hospital. Stiles got his stomach pumped."

There was a pause on the other end, "You're with Stiles right now? Did the hospital call you? I had a few misses calls from Stiles earlier."

Peter shook his head, feeling a phantom migraine come on. Werewolves aren't supposed to be able to get migraines. He thinks. "Stiles called me, said he thought he might have overdosed on adderall, caffeine and sugar, while trying to finish an essay."

"Fuck." Derek swore, sounded wounded by just the words. "Do you need me to come down there?"

"No, I've got him. He's sedated. The doctor gave him a note to give his professors to turn things in late if he needed. I think I can handle it."

There was another pause on the line, "Why did he do it?"

"The doctor thinks Stiles had a  psychotic break. Too much stress of work and school, too much stress of being so far from his family."

"What's he going to do now? I can't see Stiles accepting our help with most of this, in fact, I'm pretty sure he'll outright reject it and ask us to stop. Just like last year."

Peter shrugged, no longer caring that some of the nurses were giving him worried looks, "I'll try and convince him. Maybe I'll move down here with him. Either way, he needs to get out of that apartment. It was four when I got here, and there was still a party going on, and it was crap, and I think I could smell mould growing somewhere. It wasn't safe. Stiles needs to be safe."

Derek made a whining noise, sounding distressed, "Peter, if he needs a new place, at least convince him of that, he can't live like that on top of everything."

"I know."

***

The orderly looked down at the file he was holding. "Are you his medical proxy?"

"No. Just family."

He nodded, "He's over eighteen, and will be released to leave when he wakes up, so he doesn't need anyone to watch over him right now. You can go home and sleep till we call you."

Peter shook his head, still not looking away from Stiles' sleeping form.

He looked tired, like back when the nogitsune happened and he didn't sleep for nearly a week. Like he'd been everywhere but his bed, in his rundown apartment, in a crappy neighborhood, for the last month or so, and when he was in his bed, he probably couldn't sleep because of the noise.

He looked like he needed help.

"I'm two hours from home right now. I came when he called." His sentences were terse and short. He was starting to feel rundown too.

The orderly made a worried noise. "I can ask to get another bed in here if you want?"

Peter didn't want. He wanted Stiles to sit up and say he was all better. He wanted the stubborn boy to shut up and take his help. He wanted Stiles to smile, and stop lying to the pack and saying everything was fine.

He nodded though.

Because, sleep was the responsible thing to do when tired. Like accepting help from others was the responsible thing to do when you need it. One of them had to be responsible.

***

"Don't even try to tell me that you don't need help, because that's obviously not true."

Stiles slid down just a little further in the seat, tears springing to his eyes, and Peter nearly kicked himself. The doctor said that Stiles would probably feeling more than physically fragile for the next few days, needing both bed rest, and probably a therapist.

When Peter had told Stiles that, Stiles said he was already seeing one, but hadn't had the time for a while.

"I know, I know I need help, but I just can't."

Peter swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Why?"

Stiles wiped at his eyes furiously, hating himself for crying so easily. "Because I just can't take advantage of you guys like that!"

"How is this taking advantage? We want to help." Peter tried to keep his voice down so they didn't end up in a screaming match.

"Because I just can't ask you guys to take care of me. I'm not supposed to be taken care of, I need to take care of myself. I need to be an adult."

Peter could barely hear around the rushing of blood in his ears. "You think it's bad to accept help because you don't want to be seen as a child?"

Stiles let out a broken sob, pushing his head against the pillow on his bed, "Peter, I just can't! I don't want to be a child! I can take care of myself. I can do it all alone."

Wet tears were sliding down Stiles' cheeks, but he was paying more attention to blowing his nose on a kleenex, trying to keep his nose clear to breath.

"Stiles, you're not a child. No one thinks of you as a child. And even if you wanted to be a child, no one would hate you for it."

Stiles paused, "W-why would I want to be a child?"

Peter considered the best answer for a moment, "Well, some people find that not being an adult is nicer. Obviously, being an adult isn't all that great. You have to work, and pay bills, do homework. Basically, it sucks. Children have all the fun. People do things for them, help them, make sure everything is okay. It's just easier."

"Pity. If I acted like a child, all I would get is pity."

"Why would you get pity, Stiles?"

"Because I'm an adult, and adults don't need help."

Peter let out a frustrated noise. "If you didn't have such a migraine, I would smack you upside the head."

Stiles looked at him with wounded eyes, "Why?"

"Think about it, genius, I was in a coma for eight years. I needed around the clock care. I was an adult, still am, but I know what it's like to need help. So stop moping about being a 'failure' and just accept it when people honestly, and truly want to help you, because it's not pity. We're your pack, and we'd help you for the rest of your life if it meant you would be safe and happy, and that's not pity, it's love, because we want you to be happy and safe more than anything."

Stiles' lower lip trembled again, "But... You can't just..."

"I can, and I will. Either accept the help, or I'll have to force it on you. I'm not leaving this town until I know you're safe and happy."

"You might be here a while."

Peter frowned, "What?"

Stiles was quiet for a minute, before sniffling and sighing, "I haven't been happy for a while. You just, you might be here for a while if you do that."

Peter nodded, "Fine. I'll just have to move in, then, won't I?"

"If you want."

***

Peter wasn't kidding when he said he'd move in, but there was no way in hell he was spending a single night at Stiles' apartment.

"We don't need a hotel room. You can stay on the couch."

Peter raised an eyebrow at the teen, "Stiles, are there parties every night? I assume there will be one tonight, since it's a Friday."

Stiles cringed and nodded, "Probably."

"We're getting a hotel room, and it'll have room service, which I fully expect us both to take advantage of, and you're still supposed to be on bed rest until Monday, so you'll just be mooching off their wifi until then anyways."

"What about you moving in?"

"Easy, find a bigger, nicer apartment. Besides, I didn't mean move in on your couch. Too small."

Stiles sniffled again, sounding so very tired. "But, it's already paid for for the month."

"And it'll hold all your stuff until you move out then. We'll just find somewhere else."

Stiles leaned back, eyes closing. "Need my stuff."

Peter nodded, "Just tell me what."

***

The hotel room was kind of swanky to be honest. Stiles hadn't ever stayed in a place this good.

Too bad the rest of his first day was spent sleeping.

Stiles woke up to a dimly lit room though, stumbling out of bed to go empty his bladder.

When he got out, he tiredly followed his nose to the main room (main room, two bedroom, two bath, it was awesome) and fell into a chair across from Peter, looking at the man's steak with longing before looking back down to the bowl of chicken broth and noodles with a sad look.

"No solid foods until tomorrow. You're lucky the pumping went as well as it did, because we could otherwise still have been in that hospital."

Stiles nodded, feeling guilty that he'd even been in at all.

Stiles looked back down at the bowl and was about to speak again when Peter held something out to him. It was a mug. His mug. The giant oversized mug in his kitchen that he used for everything.

"You get that for me?"

Peter shrugged, poking at something on his tablet. "You always eat your soup out of a mug. Unless that's changed."

Stiles smiled, "Well, spoons for nothing but liquid are awkward, and drinking out of the bowl looks funny."

Peter looked up and gave Stiles a small smile of his own. "Did I say anything bad about it?"

***

Since Stiles had woken up at about one in the morning (Stiles didn't know how Peter knew when he was going to wake up, but it was probably either cause he was a werewolf, or cause he was a creeper, maybe both) he figured he'd probably be up for a while and decided to crash on the main rooms' couch, sitting next to Peter while sprawled out, his laptop sitting on an ottoman next to his head since his stomach felt like one giant bruise and he didn't want to set anything on it.

Peter didn't blink, just smoothing Stiles' frazzled hair while the boy leaned against Peter's thigh.

"Does Dad know?"

"He was called shortly after you were admitted."

Stiles sighed, "He didn't come though, that's good."

Peter frowned, "He didn't come because I told him you wouldn't want him to."

Stiles sat up a little, letting out a small groan of pain, and laying back down. "It's not that I don't want him here, I just don't want to interrupt him for such unim-"

"If you say unimportant I will smack you this time. What is unimportant about someone's son getting their stomach pumped after a mental breakdown at two in the morning because they couldn't get the break they needed?"

Stiles mouth shut with a clack, turning back to his computer and pressing a few buttons on some online game with a frown.

Peter sighed after a few minutes of silence, "Stiles, I know this is hard. You don't want to be seen as a child, and you don't want anyone to pity you, but you need to admit that something is wrong."

Stiles sighed, "The only thing wrong is that I took too many pills and tried to finish an essay and this overprotective creeper wolf demanded to take over my life because of it."

"No, you had a mental breakdown when you were tired and worried about your homework, which you couldn't finish sooner because you're working too many jobs right now, and are depressed enough to think that it's all your fault and you must have done something wrong."

Stiles was quiet again. "Peter, if I admit there's a problem, what then?"

"Then you let the pack help you. Or just me, whatever you want is fine. You get our help, and realize that none of this is your fault, and we're not babying you, we're not pitying you, we honestly care for you and want the best for you. We want you happy, and-"

"Healthy, yeah, you said before. What does that mean though."

"...Means nothing is wrong. Means that you get sleep every night, for the proper amount of time. Means that you eat right. Means you don't work every day for the whole day. Means that you smile and laugh and do things that kids your age do, and if that means you need to see your therapist again, that's what you'll do."

"...My therapist sucks. I only went to him cause he was cheap."

"We'll find you a new one. A good one."

Stiles closed his eyes for a bit, letting Peter card his fingers through his hair.

"Stiles, what would it take to make you accept our help?"

"... I'm not sure I really can, Peter. I've always felt like a burden. Dad always told me I wasn't, but I never stopped thinking I was. I never asked for anything, I always tried to stay out of his way when I wasn't doing work for the pack, I just never stopped thinking I was, no matter how much he told me I wasn't. That's why I don't want help. I don't want to feel like a burden again, like I can't make it without him, or you. I think I'm broken, Peter."

"I don't think you're broken. I think you're depressed."

Stiles frowned, turned to look up at the wolf. "That's not true, depression is when you don't like doing the things you normally do, because you have no motivation."

"Yes, but depression is also feeling guilt for average things, trying to make yourself seem as small as possible, so you don't get in the way. Depression is the inability to ask for help because you're afraid you're asking for too much, or that no one will listen, or get mad. That's depression too, and you've got it. Now, we just need to look for something to make it better."

Stiles sighed, eyes fluttering, "I'm tired, Peter."

"I know. Go sleep, pup."

***

Stiles liked the new place.

It was a lot bigger than his old one, and his bathroom wasn't growing odd things, and the living room had a couch bigger than he was tall, and he had a room that was soundproof (so was Peter's, because Peter specifically looked for soundproofing for sensitive werewolf hearing) and the neighborhood didn't scare him.

For a moment he wondered why he hadn't accepted help before, before shutting up when that stupid little voice in his head told him he was taking advantage and should stop right now.

He wasn't taking advantage, Peter said he was happy that Stiles was okay, and wanted to help.

Peter said he wasn't taking advantage. So he wasn't.

Stiles sighed and closed his laptop, finished with his homework for once. He wasn't used to having this much free time, to be honest. He was barely used to having just enough time to finish his homework at all.

Peter stuck his head out of the kitchen, wiping his hands off on a towel as he smiled at the human, "You done with homework?"

Stiles nodded, "Yeah. Never had so much time for it before. It's nice. Maybe I should get a job-"

"Nope. Don't need a job, just need to get better."

Stiles frowned, "It's been over a week since you got here, I feel fine."

"Does that mean you feel happy?"

Stiles paused, "I have an appointment with Dr. Jostlin next week."

Peter crouched in front of Stiles' spot on the couch and took Stiles' hands in his, leaning in to nuzzle at Stiles' wrists. "Just because you're going to see a therapist, doesn't mean that everything automatically gets better, Stiles. It might be years before-"

"It might be never."

Peter looked up at him with worried eyes, making Stiles sigh.

"If what you say is true, I've been depressed since before I was five. None of this was caused when my mother died, none of it is because I moved away, it probably was only found out because of that one single night a week ago when I was too stressed out to listen to my body properly. Peter, it's won't go away, why can't I just go about my life like normal?"

Peter thought about that for a moment, "Because we need to find you a way to be happy again. You were happy as a teenager, even when the stress was on. What made you happy then?"

Stiles looked away, suddenly getting it, "Uh, not worrying about things like money. Just going to school and knowing that Dad would take care of me when I-"

Stiles breath hitched, tears stinging the corners of his eyes until he blinked rapidly. Peter just smiled at him, leaning up enough to press a kiss to Stiles' forehead. "That's what we'll do then. You be the kid, do all your schoolwork, and I'll worry about everything else."

Stiles sighed again, leaning forward enough to press his forehead to Peter's. "I can't just be a teen cause I want to."

"Nonsense, people do it all the time. Some even act younger."

"That's called immaturity, and is usually frowned upon."

"No, I'm thinking of ageplay, and is hugely used as a coping mechanism and otherwise, just for fun. People do it all the time."

Stiles whined a little. He remembered seeing things like that online. But, mostly, his experience was limited to places like tumblr, where if someone called their boyfriend daddy, the entire site was liable to tell them to go kill themselves, usually resulting in them deleting the blog.

He knew what people thought about people that did that.

"You know, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. Either way, I'll still be here to help you, no matter what."

Stiles let out a relived shudder, pressing closer to the wolf, "It probably shouldn't, but that does make me feel tons better."

"I meant for it to make you feel better, so it did it's job."

"...thank you."

"Of course."

***

Stiles had a tendency to keep his door open. Said it was too quiet when it was shut.

It didn't actually help though, but it felt better when he wasn't basically sitting in a pressure bubble though. Kind of.

Peter tried to be subtle about it. He tried leaving the tv on at night first, but Stiles found that noise too changing, and always got up halfway through the night to turn it off.

A white noise generator in the living room did help, for about a week, and then Stiles started having bad dreams about being stuck in the rain forest and no one to help him but the monkeys. And then it was dark, so that made things worse.

The white noise generator would have probably worked better if it wasn't rain forest sounds.

Unplugging the cable cord on the tv had  _ sounded _ like a good idea, so it would make one of those white noise screens, but, as it turns out, that was the worst idea out of all of them, and Peter spent the next half hour trying to coax Stiles out of a corner and to stop crying, because apparently, he had a bad babysitter when he was five who let him watch 'White Noise' and that was a movie now banned from their apartment, and a noise that Peter went out of his way to avoid from now on.

Honestly though, this answer was so freaking simple.

"Just put a fan in his room. Not a ceiling fan, one of those tiny industrial metal ones. Just put it on high in the summer, and low in the winter. He'll be fine."

That's what Stiles' dad had told him, and so that's what he did.

It worked like a charm.

Stiles couldn't fall asleep to music, because it was too high pitched, and changed too much. But silence? Silence was worse. It generated nightmares and teenagers who couldn't sleep any more for fear of worse when they closed their eyes.

A fan was literally so simple, Peter hadn't even thought of it.

The door to Stiles' room was pretty mush always open now, and Peter leaned in the doorway, looking at the truly worn out teenager in such a deep sleep on the bed right now, it was actually surprising.

Peter hadn't seen him sleep that well since he finally got over the nogitsune incident enough to actually rest for once. It'd taken months just to get that far.

Stiles twisted under the covers, turning over to press his cheek against the other pillow, curling up around the blankets instead of under them.

Peter mentally added 'cool temp body pillow' to the list so Stiles wasn't constantly tossing his blankets off, but it was California, so he wasn't that worried.

***

The first time Stiles actually expressed interest in something less than adult, Peter hadn't hesitated to get him it.

They'd been on their usual weekly shopping trip to the local supermarket (Peter had requested that Stiles go with him so he didn't end up getting foods Stiles' hated, but also so he could get a feel for what the teen actually liked) and they were in the back, near the dairy section when Stiles was looking down the kids school supplies section.

Peter decided to subtly go down that aisle so he could figure out exactly what the boy wanted, but the look Stiles gave him made it pretty obvious that he knew.

Still didn't stop him from getting a giant pack of crayons and five different colouring books, much to the blushing chagrin of Stiles who resolutely kept his mouth shut.

Peter's found that if he takes the decisions right away from him, it usually garnered pretty good results in terms of Stiles actually accepting the things he did for him. If he asked, Stiles usually gave him the overused 'I don't need anything' speech.

That night while Peter was cooking dinner, Stiles had set up camp in the living room, a small smile on his face while he coloured Spiderman while laying on his stomach on the ground.

It was heartwarming to see, and Peter would do a lot to keep that smile on his face.

***

Stiles was kind of happy right now. He was even more happy that he was starting to be able to recognize the symptoms of actually being happy again.

He didn't have any homework right now, Peter had bought that awesome deli soup that tastes like magic, and Scott and Derek were planning on coming down to visit them tonight (probably crashing in their living room for the next couple of days, which was even better, cause Stiles hasn't seen his best friend in months.)

Stiles was humming a little too, putting the final touches on another amazing Stiles Stilinski colouring book masterpiece once more, while waiting for Peter to finish making lunch. They had settled into a nice routine of Stiles never cooking because he was a crap cook, and Peter always cooking because Peter liked cooking, and it was great. Peter leaned over his shoulder, making Stiles pause.

"Very nice, Stiles."

Stiles didn't know fully how to answer that, so he didn't. He kind of wanted to smile and shyly say 'thank you' but, that was stupid. What was Peter even complimenting him for? The picture was premade, all he was doing was adding the colours to it.

Peter didn't wait for a response though, going back to the stove with a smile on his face.

***

"Stop coddling me. I'm not a baby."

Scott frowned, not letting Stiles pull away from where he was trying to reacquaint his scent with Stiles'. "I'm not treating you like a baby, you just don't smell enough like your alpha. I need to fix that."

Stiles squirmed again, mostly just ending up on the other side of the couch, this time with Derek (much more subtly) trying to scent him instead while he glared at Scott.

When Peter finally came back into the room with hot chocolate and cookies (which was awesome, because Peter was awesome) Stiles was complaining about being forced into the gayest werewolf sandwich ever and trying to squirm away from both of them. Peter decided not to rescue him yet, knowing that his pack mates needed to scent him while they could.

He sure knew that when he finally had Stiles out of the hospital, he'd scented the teen for a good three hours after Stiles was awake again.

Stiles was grumpily sipping at his hot chocolate fifteen minutes later, glaring at Derek and Scott from his spot, curled up next to Peter on the other couch while the wolf plied him with cookies.

Stiles smugly curled up into Peter's stomach when Scott made a whining noise, trying to get his human to come back to him, but Derek just snorted, amused at them both.

"Well, you two seem to be cohabitating well."

Stiles turned a little red at that, hiding his face in Peter's stomach entirely. He may be ever so slightly embarrassed about his sudden dependence on the wolf, but, he couldn't help it. Peter was the first person to step back into his life and just make everything better. Stiles couldn't stand the thought of him leaving at this point. He just wouldn't know what to do.

Stiles frowned into Peter's evenly moving stomach while he listened to Scott and Derek catch Peter up on the goings on in Beacon Hills. Stiles tuned this out, on account of this being boring as frick to him, focusing on his hot chocolate instead.

***

Stiles sighed as Peter herded him out the door and into Peter's car, (which seemed to be getting a hell of a lot more use outside of school days than his baby) and frowned at the early morning sun. It was bright out.

"Where are we going?"

Peter guided him into the front seat, doing the buckle up for Stiles in a way that made his face heat up and a silly grin appear on his face. "Botanical gardens."

Stiles frowned, waiting till Peter got in on the other side before speaking again. "That's a whole hour away."

Peter smiled and pulled one of Stiles' spare backpacks out of the back seat. "That's why you've got multiple hours of entertainment items for your disposal."

Stiles looked through the backpack, wondering what Peter had packed for him, and frowned. Everything was new. "You really didn't have-"

"Don't you dare finish that, Stiles. I was more than happy to."

"But, you... do you, um, like buying me things?"

Peter hummed in thought, "Kind of. I like buying you things I think you might like."

Stiles' smell was conflicted and for a moment, Peter couldn't tell what he was thinking about that statement until it took on an edge of something that Peter had been trying to make him smell of since he moved in. Contentment. It was a smell that at this point, Peter was associating with very good thoughts, and made him relax in his seat.

Stiles rifled through the bag, finding a car charger in it. "What's this for?"

"You always forget to charge your phone at night. I figured your phone would die halfway through the day and you'd get sulky about it. You might as well put it on now."

Stiles smiled and did so, realizing that Peter was probably right. He went back through the bag and found gummy worms and mini crunch bars.

Stiles had had a slight aversion to plain chocolate since he'd had his stomach pumped, something that even Scott had found weird, but Stiles couldn't stomach things that he'd thrown up -or worse, because the internal bruising from getting his stomach pumped was worse- before. Stiles still liked chocolate, just not plain.

Stiles sat back in the seat, taking out a gummy worm to suck on and a sketch book to draw in. He hadn't actually drawn in years. He used to do it constantly in classes. The only way he could focus was when he was using his hands to some extent, and drawing was always so easy while in a sitting position. He hadn't drawn any in college though, preferring to take notes as much as he could so he could at least retain something later.

Stiles' eyes went a little glassy though as he opened up a packet of mechanical pencils and white erasers, trying to remember when he'd last actually taken the time to just sit down and draw.

"Peter?"

"Yeah, Stiles?"

Stiles paused for a moment, biting his lip, "When did I last have an appointment with Dr. Jostlin? I mean, I know I have one tomorrow, but I..."

"Last Tuesday."

Stiles sighed, honestly trying to remember what he did that last Tuesday. All his days were starting to bleed together. "Dr. Jostlin said that people with depression have trouble discerning past events because of time bleeding together. Shit, I should have realized this years ago."

"Why's that?"

"My entire life have been bleeding into one giant blob for as long as I can remember. I always thought that kind of thing was just normal."

Peter paused for a moment, "You always remember dates just fine for most things."

"Only if it's a birthday, or holiday, because then I have something to differentiate between those days and any other day."

Stiles looked down at the sketchbook with a sigh, doodling in the top right corner of a blank page with a frown.

Peter watched him out of the corner of his eyes, "You know, I had a similar issue to that when I first woke up. Before I was awake too. At first, I could hear everything outside of the coma, and I could eventually tell a routine between me and the staff there. But then, after a few years, everything started bleeding together. Maybe it was depression, maybe that's just the natural direction of a coma patient's mind. Maybe it was both. I just know that after a while, all that was there was me, and my own, awful thoughts."

Stiles frowned, feeling guilty now for being annoyed at himself when he hadn't gone through a fraction of what Peter did.

"Hey, don't feel bad. I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I just want you to know, that I know what that's like, and I wouldn't wish it on you in a million years. I just want you to know, that I want to help you, and not leave you to deal with this yourself like I did. I just want to help."

Stiles made a choked off noise, smiling, "Thanks, Peter."

"Any time, pup."

***

Stiles liked Peter being with him here. He was well enough by now, nearly three months later, to realize that. If fact, he was well enough to think that maybe he wasn’t even taking advantage of him by having him here.

 

“What’s wrong, pup?”

 

Stiles moved to press his back against the side of Peter’s body, looking just a little shy. “I don’t… I… I like you being here.”

 

Peter smiled a little, pulling Stiles flush against him and burying his face in Stiles’ neck. “I like being here, pup. You make me happy.”

 

Stiles turned to look at him with big eyes, “Really?”

 

Peter smiled. Stiles seemed so much younger than normal right now, all big eyed and trusting. It was amazing. “Yeah. I love being here with you  _ so _ much, pup. Because you’re my favorite packmate.”

 

Stiles frowned, “Derek says we’re not supposed to pick favorites.”

 

Peter nodded, “Yeah. I do a lot of ill advised things, sorry.”

 

Stiles giggled just a little bit, moving over to nuzzle at Peter’s neck, scenting him like Peter did to him all the time.

 

It may not exactly be the most conventional thing in the world, but Stiles felt like it was good. He’s never claimed not to be weird before, and he  _ knows _ he is, but this is something that Peter likes too, so there’s nothing wrong with it. Right?

 

Yeah, right.

 

***

 

Peter decided to be a little sneaky.

 

Don’t get him wrong, he loves what he and Stiles has together right now, but he can’t help but think what it’ll be like when they go back to Beacon Hills for the summer.

 

He was still paying for the apartment. Actually, it was a great place, he’s thinking about buying it outright when their lease runs up, because it’s a great place, and he has a lot of nice memories here now.

 

But still, he knows fully well, that when they go back to Beacon Hills, Stiles might take a step back, away from their relationship together like this, and that might affect them when they come back for next year at school.

 

So, he decided to be just the littlest bit sneaky.

 

“Come on, Stiles, we’re going to the park.”

 

Stiles made a lot of noise when he moved on a normal basis, and Peter could hear him crashing out of his room with an excited air to him.

 

Stiles crashed into Peter’s side, looking up at him with wide eyes, “We’re going to the park?”

 

Peter nodded. It was California, and Stiles’ school was a lot further south than Beacon Hills was, so it didn’t exactly get  _ cold _ here, but it was heading into spring fast, so it was hot out, and there were lots of nice things to do outside.

 

Like, for instance, the littles and bigs munch that he’d found online was meeting at a nice big park today…

 

See, that’s where the sneaky came in.

 

“Yeah, we’re going to the park, and after we leave, we can get some iced coffee and go to the bookstore. How’s that sound?”

 

Stiles made a happy noise in the back of his throat. “ _ Good _ ! That sounds good, come on, let's go!”

 

Peter let Stiles pull him out the door with an excited air about him. It’s a good thing he was in a good mood today, because otherwise, this might be a horrible idea.

 

The park had a good amount of people in it. Of course, there were no children over the age of two, since this was a school day, but Peter had decided on a school day munch instead of one of the ones that happened on a weekend, figuring there would be a lot less people, and Stiles would feel less shy about it.

 

Still, when Peter got around to Stiles’ side of the car and opened up the door for him, Stiles was paused in his seat, looking a little lost and very shy now.

 

Stiles liked people, he naturally gravitated towards others, but he knew that normal adults didn’t play at parks and let their middle aged roommates pack a bag full of games and snacks for them. He felt a little shy now.

 

He backed against the car seat with a frown on his face while Peter knelt down next to him, unbuckling him and putting both hands on Stiles’ knees to get his attention. “Hey, buddy, what’s up?”

 

Stiles look down, his thumb pulling out from between his front teeth where he’d been worrying the thing. Peter thinks he’d probably be okay with a pacifier if Peter could get him better settled in his headspace. “People, Peter.”

 

Peter nodded, reaching up to gently rub his hand on Stiles’ neck. “I know that, pup. There are people, but I thought it might be a nice day out to go play. Look, there are other adults playing too.”

 

There were. Since there was a lack of kids on a weekday -the actual reason that the littles and bigs munch was meeting here today- there were quite a few adults -littles- scattered around the playground right now. It looked fun. But Stiles was nervous.

 

Suddenly, he looked at Peter though. “You planned this.”

 

He was wearing a pout now, which made Peter have to fight to keep his facial muscles stern still. He nodded, “Well, I was looking online, and there was a meeting of bigs and littles here today-”

 

“So you planned it.”

 

Peter nodded again. “Look, pup, if you don’t want to play with anyone else, that’s okay, but I was hoping that maybe we could at least try this to see if it’s something we want to do?”

 

Stiles nodded slowly, his thumb between his teeth again while he looked over at the playground. It looked fun. “W-wanna play, Peter.”

 

Peter nodded, gently helping the boy out of the car. It was empty in the area mostly, and so the few others there that weren’t already playing -the caregivers- were giving him some knowing looks. Peter gently slid Stiles’ hand into his own, smiling when the boy gave him a squeeze.

 

Stiles quickly pulled his thumb away from his mouth when he noticed the stares, and turned to press his burning face into Peter’s shoulder while the other just smiled and moved to grab Stiles’ bag before shutting the door again.

 

The bag was a new development. They’d both found, that Stiles’ anxiety about pretty much anything could be easily curbed by having what he needed -a toy to distract him, a gameboy usually make him feel a little less weird though, or snacks, because low blood sugar was shit and made him feel tired and shaky- and Peter tried to keep one on hand at all times.

 

Peter let the teen cling to him while they walked over to the amused group of adults loitering around a picnic table. He could tell that Stiles was going to be shyly quiet on this one. They’d talked about actually getting into the ageplay scene before, but Peter had known he was going to have to… well, to be frank, he was going to have to trick him into it, just like everything else. The only reason that he knew it wasn’t fully off limits at all, was because Stiles had told him it wasn’t off limits. Peter took everything his boy said to heart.

 

A woman smiled at them politely, and stood in front of the rest of the group with a happy look on her face. “Hi! You two must be here for the littles and caregivers munch, right?”

 

Peter nodded, noting the way that Stiles just turned and shyly hid his face in Peter’s shoulder again. “Yes, I’m Peter, and this is Stiles. You’re Mary, right? I believe we actually talked on the forum.”

 

Mary grinned even brighter, and damn, Peter had to admit, that was a dazzling smile. “Oh, Peter, that’s so good that you two were able to make it out. I know it can be tough for people new to the scene.”

 

Peter nodded, but his eyes zeroed in on Stiles when he ever so gently tugged on their connected hands. His voice went low, barely enough for Mary to hear, and quiet enough that no one else but Stiles heard. “Hey, pup, you okay?”

 

Stiles nodded, avoiding his gaze though. “Wanna go play?”

 

Peter nodded gently, pressing a kiss to the side of his pup’s head. “Okay, you go play. Uncle Peter is gonna stay right here with everyone else, okay?”

 

Stiles nodded, and pretty much ran away before anyone else in the group could so much as say anything. Peter watched after him with a quiet smile as Stiles immediately went for the highest part of the jungle gym, swinging himself up onto the bars till he was sitting on them. It was damn cute.

 

He felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Mary again, who was smiling at him just a little, before nodding her head over towards the tables. “He’ll be fine, Peter. Really, all littles are a bit nervous at first, but you said he’s a social boy, he’ll be fine I’m sure.”

 

Peter nodded, following her over towards the tables. “Yes, he’ll be fine; though, I’m not fully sure he can count as a little in the traditional sense?”

 

Mary sat down with him and several other caregivers, who all looked interested. “That’s right! You and Stiles utilize ageplay as a means of… mental soothing, I guess is a good way to put it?”

 

Peter shrugged. He had Stiles’ bag in his lap, one hand absently playing with a strap there. “I guess that’s as good as any. Anyways, Stiles and I don’t use ageplay for purely recreational purposes.”

 

Mary leaned against one hand, elbow propped on the table, and chin on her fist, looking ever the experienced Domme that she was. “That does make a lot of sense, but, does Stiles  _ like _ being in his younger mindset?”

 

Peter paused, a light smile gracing his face. “He does.”

 

Mary nodded, “That’s pretty much the only requirement for being a little that I know of.”

 

Peter smiled and glanced back over at Stiles, who was almost dangerously perched on a high bar, watching everyone around him with sharp eyes. Peter knew he was probably looking for just about any weakness, as well as looking for advantage points to make friends. He teaches his pup well.

 

One of the other caregivers looked at the playground too, and gave Stiles a wide eyed look. “Are you sure you should be letting him do that? That seems sort of dangerous.”

 

Peter thought that over for a second. His definition of dangerous was possibly skewed after years of living in Beacon Hills. Lord knows, Stiles had been in more dangerous situations than sitting on the monkey bars.

 

He watched Stiles’ movements with a sharp eye though. “He’s fine. If he falls, he’ll learn not to do that again. But I doubt he will. I’ve seen him climb trees twice as dangerous and thrice as high, without falling.”

 

The daddy -who  _ must _ have been a daddy, with the way that he gave another little boy on the playground a worried look- looked unsure, maybe slightly horrified. It was amusing.

 

Overall, by the end of the meeting, Peter was calling that day a success. Stiles had made several friends who he told Peter  _ all _ about on their way to get coffee and go to the bookstore, and Peter had several other caregivers to talk to as well.

 

***

 

Peter had thought quite a bit about getting Stiles a some new toys. Stiles was the cutest little in the world, and Peter could get him to engage with playing with his stuffie -a large teddy bear named Maraca that looked like he’d seen better days, very well loved- and could easily get him to settle down with colouring and picture books, but Stiles had almost no actual toys to play with.

 

They needed to fix this.

 

“Why, why, why does we have to go to the store now, Uncle Peter?”

 

Peter grinned down at the little boy. Stiles was getting more and more settled into a little headspace. Peter had the feeling that he would probably hover a bit around three to six. He seemed like a very big boy as far as littlespace goes.

 

Also, he was so fucking adorable, Peter might be getting cavities. Ugh.

 

“We’re going to the  _ toy _ store, pup!” 

 

Stiles gave Peter an amazed look. “We are?”

 

Peter nodded, “Yeah. We’re gonna go, and look at the toys, and get whatever my precious boy wants.”

 

Which was probably the stupidest thing Peter had ever said in his life.

 

***

 

“What are you answering for, where’s Stiles?”

 

Peter could see the Sheriff sitting at his desk in the station, absently marking some things on a form while he ate his lunch, and figured he must be doing the afternoon skyping thing with Stiles again.

 

For a person who had a ridiculous amount of childhood issues involving confusion and later problems in life, Stiles and John actually had an  _ amazing _ relationship as parent and child. They were almost always on skype, or texting throughout the day. Stiles had said that keeping up a constant running monologue with his father and a few others in the pack, was pretty much the only way he’d made it this far without being able to see anyone back in Beacon Hills. Peter has always been a fan of technology, but now, he’s decided that it must be a godsend.

 

Peter looked back at the doorway to the living room, where he could still hear Stiles chattering away. “Um, he’s a little busy right now.”

 

The Sheriff raised an eyebrow at that, taking a drink out of the iced tea sitting on his desk. “With what? He’s never busy now days.”

 

Peter let out a long suffering sigh. “Okay, so, we were out shopping today, and there was like, a pet store, like,  _ right _ next to where we were-”

 

“If you got him a dog, I reserve the right to shoot you, because Stiles will cry on me when I refuse to let it in the house, and seeing him cry is like getting shot, so it’ll be like an eye for an eye.”

 

Peter frowned. That comparison didn’t sound like an eye for an eye to him, but he didn’t question the man. “I didn’t get him a  _ dog _ , John, I’m not  _ stupid _ . I know fully well how allergic you are, and I also know that it’s almost stupid how fast those fuckers  _ die _ .”

 

John cringed. “Yeah. That  _ is _ kind of bad. What’d you get him? Cat? Those live a long time if you take care of em right.”

 

Peter nodded, “Yeah, they do… not what we got him though.”

 

John gave him an amused look. “Hmm… now, I know it couldn’t have been a fish, because it’s got to be something Stiles can touch without it dying.”

 

Peter did smile a little at that, before leaning back and calling into the living room. “Hey, Stiles, you’re dad’s on skype!”

 

They could both hear an excitable shout, and it was barely thirty seconds later before Stiles came barreling into the room, a pet carrier in his hands.

 

“Woah, calm down there, buddy, you don’t want to startle him.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes, and slid into the seat next to Peter, shoving the carrier into Peter’s lap for him to hold. “Hey, Dad, guess what! Me and Peter went to the pet store, and we got a  _ turtle _ !”

 

Stiles pulled his hand out of the carrier, holding up the smallest,  _ angriest _ looking turtle that John had ever seen in his life. He couldn’t help the grin on his face at the way Stiles held him up for his dad to see, gently cooing at him while he pet his angry little head.

 

“It’s… it’s not a snapping turtle, is it?”

 

Peter shook his head, looking thankful. “No, he’s a dwarf breed, very small. The pet store workers said he would be perfect for a person who wanted to hold him.”

 

John nodded, cringing at the way he looked like he wanted to bite Stiles anyways. Stiles just cooed and held him closer. “What’d you name him, Stiles?”

 

Stiles smiled, “I wanted to name him Derek, because he reminds me of Derek, though I’m not sure why, but Peter said he wouldn’t like that, so his name is Sour Apple.”

 

John had to physically bite into his lower lip to keep from laughing. He couldn’t wait to see Derek later to tell him  _ all _ about it. “That’s a great name, Stiles.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

***

 

Sour Apple was the most amazing, perfect, pretty, adorable pet ever. Stiles made sure to play with him as much as he could, and his tank was huge and had lots of rocks for him to sit on, and Stiles fed him fresh greens and frozen fishies every day -because Wiki-How told him to, and Wiki-How knows their shit. Why else would they have so many pictures and interesting facts??? No good answer to that, huh? That’s what I thought.- and Stiles loved him more than anything ever.

 

See, Peter did not share this enthusiasm. “He’s not gonna bite you, Uncle Peter.”

 

Yeah yeah, tell that to the three small, healing bite marks on Peter’s pinky. It was barely even there at all, and it would be healed in less than a minute, but damn, that little fucker had sharp tiny teeth.

 

Stiles was oblivious to that, though, happily coming back into the room with a lettuce leaf that he handed to the turtle. See, Sour Apple never bit  _ him _ , but he seemed to hate Peter and everything he stood for. That’s okay, sometimes Peter hated everything he stood for too.

 

When Stiles was in the room, the little thing acted like the perfect pet, but when Peter was watching him, he tried to tear off limbs. Of course, he was the same overall size as Peter’s index finger, so he wouldn’t succeed, but it was funny to watch sometimes. And, unbearably annoying.

 

Peter just sighed though, moving to run his fingers through the soft hair on Stiles’ head.

 

***

 

Stiles was a little bit sad. They were going back to Beacon Hills, and he was gonna miss his new friend here.

 

He had a lot of friends from the littles and bigs munch group, which was nice, and they were all sad that Stiles wasn’t going to spend the summer there.

 

Stiles was also very sad, because Peter and him weren’t going to be living together anymore.

 

“You know,” Peter said as he buckled Stiles into the car. He was leaving his own car there for a week, since he didn’t want Stiles to drive back himself, and he also knew Stiles wouldn’t want to leave his baby. “When the summer is over, we’re going to come  _ right _ back the the apartment. It’s why I bought it.”

 

Stiles thought that over for a few minutes while Peter got in on the driver’s side of the car. “We’re both gonna come back next year, together?”

 

Peter nodded, a smile on his face, “Yeah, baby boy. We’re going to come back, and I’ll stay here with you while you go to school again, and it’ll be just the same!”

 

Stiles leaned back in his seat with a smile. That did sound nice.

 

***

 

Stiles had missed being back in Beacon Hills with his dad, but he didn’t miss it with the burning intensity that he had the year before, back before Uncle Peter stayed with him and made him feel better.

 

But still, he’d missed his dad. And also, his pack.

 

Sour Apple didn’t seem to mind being in a new place, which was nice too.

 

Also, he still had his stuffie, and lots of toys that Uncle Peter had gotten him over the year.

 

He missed Uncle Peter.

 

When he came into his room for bed that night -because Uncle Peter makes him go to bed at a regular time every night, and now he was sleepy early- he paused in the doorway to his room, before a big grin spread over his face.

 

Peter was there, in his full form wolf shift, laying on the bed. When he saw Stiles, his tail wagged a few times, and he let out a small bark, eager for his boy to come over and pet him.

 

Stiles was happy.

**Author's Note:**

> littleboyfics.tumblr.com


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